It was 20 years ago today Alberto brought all the rain

Playing a quarterfinal match on the Fourth of July seemed like a good omen for a surprising USA soccer team as it prepared for a 1994 World Cup matchup against Brazil.

What could be more perfect on a rainy afternoon than to watch the hosts take on the world’s best? Brazil, on its way to winning its fourth Cup, ended the USA team’s dream that day with a 1-0 victory.

But back in Macon, Ga. – where I lived then and worked for the newspaper – it was just the beginning. By the end of the match, the still-driving rain made me feel like I was in a Brazilian rainforest. Hurricane Alberto, downgraded by now to a tropical storm, had come to town and would linger.

It rained all day that Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. It rained so hard, the Macon water plant was flooded, leaving the city dry for 19 days until the plant was cleaned, sanitized and reopened.

Here is my description in the July 7, 1994, edition of the Birmingham News, a summary of team reporting for this red-ball story:

“The Killer Flood of 1994 left at least 18 people dead in Georgia, including 11 in the midstate. Several parts of Middle Georgia were isolated Wednesday, with whole towns shut off from the outside world as rising waters threatened levees, dams, homes and businesses. At the end of the day Wednesday, Montezuma resembled a lake. About 500 people were evacuated from the downtown area Wednesday. Seven fatalities were reported in Macon County.

“Americus was more like an island. Rising water from 21 inches of rain completely cut off the Sumter County town, even shutting down all four radio stations. Seven drowning victims were taken to Sumter Regional Hospital in Americus on Wednesday. The victims were trapped in their homes or cars by floodwaters or mud slides.

“At day’s end, water from the Ocmulgee River threatened to flow over the Otis Redding Bridge, near Interstate 16 in Macon. That could be the death of the bridge, according to officials from the Army Corps of Engineers warned city leaders Wednesday. Corps experts believe the bridge is not structurally sound enough to withstand the rising water and it may already have been damaged.”

Macon’s levee was breached, but flooding was limited mostly to the water plant, a low-lying commercial area and a park adjacent to the river, because the downtown rises quickly from there to a bluff.

Interstate 16 and Riverside Drive in Macon

 
The Weather Channel set up in the newspaper’s back parking lot, only a few hundred yards from the peak of the flood zone. Just before deadline when I was writing the story quoted above, I had to run out to the back lot to check one more time with the mayor to make sure the Otis Redding Bridge was still intact. Then I went home, flipped on the Weather Channel, and watched the scene I had just left.  

We were comparatively lucky. Flood waters killed people, disinterred caskets from a cemetery and took out a bridge in Albany. For months, going from one side of town to the other required a 100-mile detour.

Editors told me to grab an intern and a company 4-wheel drive and head to Montezuma, which had been hit with 20 inches of rain, sending the Flint River over a 29-foot levee that protected the downtown area and cutting off the town

I knew many roads were still impassable, so as I drove down the interstate I got the bright idea to call the circulation department to see how they got into the Montezuma area.

They didn’t get in, they said.

Fortunately we found a way. The water had crested, but blocks of the commercial district still was flooded above the rooftops of single-story buildings.

I got a boat tour of downtown. We passed the bait-and-tackle shop that would be sheathed in netting before the water receded to limit stock losses when the shop windows inevitably burst. Only the tips of ornamental street lamps could be seen above the water. At the post office, we peered through a large window on the second floor. Just above the waterline a sign read “Caution: Wet Floors.”




Touring downtown Montezuma by boat

It was surreal. Only responders and the stray business owner were around. No residents. Few  cars. No activity other than lapping water and the occasional revving boat engine.

Back at the office later, I lead my story with this observation: There’s plenty of offshore parking today in downtown Montezuma.

Surreal is a good description of the next few weeks. With no running water, I had to rely on invitations from friends elsewhere to disinfect in their showers.

All that standing water meant daily rain. One day I’d gotten off early and just pulled into my driveway when the daily deluge started. First I cursed the prospect of getting soaked but quickly recognized the possibilities. I dashed inside, changed into a pair of shorts, grabbed a bar of soap and ran outside for nature’s shower.

Those were desperate times. The National Guard distributed water at several locations – canned and bottled for drinking, cooking and cleaning; non-potable water to make the toilets flush. The foyer of our house was loaded with five-gallon buckets and the renters there had an unspoken pact to keep them filled.   

Macon was a city of porta-potties. We had four outside the Telegraph office. Employees had to get a key at the front desk, trading back the key for a wet wipe packet (this was long before Purell) like those at barbecue restaurants.

The spirit of cooperation was beautiful in Macon. People were considerate of each other. Those who had would share with those in need. Out of disaster had come a utopian response.

By late July, water again began flowing through the taps in Macon. Not saddled with the prolonged cleanup facing other communities from the floods, people went back to their personal orbits.